DISCLAIMER : Don't own the character, but I own the lousy score for the writing test. Please R&R... I want something good out of all this. Xx
There is only one thing that I would ever consider to be precious. It is a very precious object to me for several reasons. First, I killed my best friend Deagol to get the Precious. Second, I survived torture in the Morgul Pits in hope of finding the Precious. Third, I put up with the nasty fat hobbit to get the Precious back. And it is so beautiful, so bright, so perfect... I love the Precious more than my own life. Actually, I jumped off a cliff to save it, but I somehow am able to write this from the fires of Mount Doom.
As I said, when I still lived along the river, I had a very good friend named Deagol. On my birthday, we went fishing and Deagol fell overboard. At the bottom of the river, he found the Precious. I told him I wanted it, but he would not give it to me. And it being my birthday and all! Well as you can probably guess, I was upset. I killed him and took this most precious thing. In retrospect, this was probably a bit selfish, but it did give my ring lots of sentimental value. It was, after all, a birthday present.
Then, after five hundred years, a Baggins came and stole the Precious. I went in search of it, and a place called the Shire, but the nasty Wood-elves would not give me a road map, so I wandered for a while. Then nine gothic men in pointy metal gloves and black robes took me to the Morgul Pits. They tortured me, and poked me with pointy sticks. I was sure I would die, but then it occurred to me that these chaps might let me go if I gave them some clues. Then I could try to find a road map in Mordor, and hurry off to find the Precious. So I told them, and I promised myself that I would not allow myself to lose the Precious again if I found it. All the while I dreamed of the Precious, so of course I'm rather attached to it because if I ever lose it again, I may have to go back to the Pits! I refuse to lose it. Anyway, I got my road map.
But of all the rotten luck- when I finally found the Precious, it was carried by a different Baggins, and a nasty, fat hobbit who liked to spoil nice fish and make fun of poor, little, innocent Gollum! I would have asked nicely for the Precious, but after they put an elf-rope on me, I decided I might as well kill them. But the fat hobbit knew somehow, so I determined to play the nice guy and get them close to the end of their journey, then- POW!- get my Precious back. And since the Master was nice to me, I figured that when I finally got the Precious back, it would remind me of the one nice hobbit, and I would think of him as I held the Precious, and I would consider how nice his furry feet had tasted once I got my hands on him. Unfortunately, things did not go according to plan.
But I still haven't told you why I first loved it so much, have I? It was so bright, so lovely, so perfect and heavy and comforting. And it made me invisible so that I could catch tasty little orclings, but that was only an added bonus. The really good part was that if I hung it on a string and dangled it in the water, fish would come to look at it, and I could eat them, beautiful fish! Afterwards the Precious always smelled like smoked salmon (a personal favorite). I loved the Precious. It gave poor little Gollum power that he'd never had before, power to be happy and to lurk and spy and steal. And it was the best birthday present I'd ever gotten, even if I had to do lousy things to get it back.
Wouldn't you like a precious thing like that? Something you'd be willing to kill for and suffer and put up with fat hobbits for? Something that would be your best and only friend, that made you invisible? Well, I'm the lucky one. I've got the Precious.